Prince Joe Henry, one of professional baseball's original "clowns," was
an all-star infielder for Negro League baseball teams in Memphis,
Indianapolis and Detroit throughout the 1950s. But up until the late 1940s,
Prince Joe didn?t know anything about the Negro Leagues. His knowledge of
organized baseball was limited to the Cardinals and Browns games he attended
during his preteen years at Sportsman?s Park, accompanied by lifelong buddy
Eugene "Gene" Crittendon, who could pass for white.

Perhaps Henry?s most vivid memory of those games: Upon entry, white ushers
would politely escort the boys to a small section of the left-field stands
reserved for "Colored." After climbing past several tiers of bleachers,
they?d arrive at their stop, rows and rows behind their white counterparts.

Even at a young age, the boys were conscious of the double standard -- and
determined to vent their disdain. The opportunity would arise with the urge
to urinate. Rather than head for the latrine, the boys would edge their way
to the front of the section and let fly. As the liquid foamed its way down
the concrete steps toward the white kids, Henry and his pal would ease back
and relax, politely rooting for the visiting team to beat the hell out of
the Browns or the Cards.

After all, Henry and Crittendon hailed from Brooklyn, Illinois, a small,
predominantly black township just east of the Mississippi River. So
hospitable were the residents of Brooklyn that they were known to take in a
rank stranger, treat him to breakfast, lunch, supper and a night out on the
town -- and afterward, if he messed up, treat him to a good ass-whippin'.

The Farrelly brothers swing straight and hit the sweet spot

Unreal visits a holistic beauty shop, discovers the synergy between consulting groups and Playboy Playmates and checks out a local blogger's anti-Valentine's Day party. Plus: Was it really just the Milky Ways, Willie?